


Player Two

by jarenshapadackllins



Series: 25 Days of Destiel [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Destiel, Alternate Universe - High School, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, I'm so bad at tagging, Kissing, M/M, Snow, and other winter things, sam's in it for like 5 seconds i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarenshapadackllins/pseuds/jarenshapadackllins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His friend scooches closer to him on the couch and sighs. “First off, stop doing this,” he places a gentle hand on Dean’s knee and stops him. Dean isn’t one for tutty-fruity feelings, but Cas’ touch is sending white-hot flames through Dean’s veins and it feels disgustingly amorous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Player Two

**Author's Note:**

> **This piece is not beta read.**

“Dean!” Sam’s voice is distant from the basement, but the _thudthudthud_ of him running to the stairs is very loud. “It’s snowing!”

The older Winchester rolls his eyes. Him and Castiel, his best friend since the sixth grade and clandestine crush since freshman year, have been playing video games all evening, and Cas has been outright _annihilating_ Dean at his own game. Player Two shoulder never win this much.

Or, maybe Dean is _letting_ Castiel win. Maybe.

“The weatherman said it wasn’t supposed to snow,” Castiel says, his brow furrowing as he clicks his control to scope on a target.

“I’ve told you this helluva lot, Cas, the weatherman is always wrong,” Dean nearly throws his controller when he sits up, frantically tapping buttons to avoid enemy grenades. When his screen turns bright red, he lets out a defeated groan and falls back into the couch. Castiel laughs at his expense.

“Face it, Dean, you’re just not as savvy as you used to be,” Cas jokes.

“Whatever!” Dean exclaims, tossing his controller onto the cushions. He ran out of lives anyway.

Castiel finishes out the round and sets the controller aside, squirming until he’s sitting cross legged, facing Dean, on the other side of the couch. “Maybe we won’t have school tomorrow.”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t do any of my physics homework,” Dean laughs and stretches his arms in front of him. When he looks to Castiel, he’s given the I Offered You Help But You Refused and Now Look What You’ve Done™ look. “Come on, Cas, it’s one class.”

“You want to be an engineer, Dean. You have to pass physics,” Castiel says, the disapproving tone in his voice making Dean feel more than a little bad about his latest effort in the class. It isn’t even difficult; it’s boring.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam squeals from the top of the stairs. Castiel stifles a laugh with the back of his hand, and Dean lets out a long sigh.

“Whaddaya want, Samsquatch?”

“I said, _it’s snowing!_ It’s _been_ snowing,” he thumps down a couple of stairs, and Dean can see him in his pajama pants and one of Dean’s t-shirts his mom must’ve thrown in Sam’s laundry. “No school!”

Dean can feel his smile stretch from ear to ear as he claps his hands loudly and points to Cas. “Hear that? No school!” He wiggles around excitedly on the couch and Castiel laughs quietly as he shakes his head.

“You are insufferable, Dean Winchester.”

What makes Dean stop and stare isn’t the subtle jab from his best friend, but it’s the way he says it and, most importantly, the way Cas looks at Dean. Their gazes are locked now, and the air slowly shifts into new territory. His friend’s voice was soft, filled with something Dean can’t ascertain, and his eyes are shining a little brighter than usual. Or maybe Dean’s hearing things and it’s just the shitty light in his basement.

The couch suddenly feels too small, and all Dean can focus on is Castiel’s curious stare. No matter how long Dean has know Castiel, the dark haired boy was always a sort of enigma. Up until now, it hadn’t bothered Dean; it was merely a part of Cas’ weird personality. Now, all Dean wants is to figure him out, to figure _this_ out.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s staring right back until Sam clears his throat. _Loudly_. The two boys on the couch blink and look in different directions.

“Also, Mom says Cas has to sleep over. The roads are too dangerous,” and with that, Sam hops back up the stairs.

Great. _Great_.

Awkward silence ensues, and Dean picks up the remote from the side table. He clicks a few buttons until the TV channels appear, and he finds the Food Network. It’s always been Castiel’s favorite, and there is really nothing else on anymore.

Every so often Dean sneaks a glance toward Castiel, and ninety-nine percent of the time, Castiel’s already looking at him. To Cas, staring isn’t strange. It’s a form of 'friendly examination' which, right now, is making Dean feel incredibly self conscious, not to mention uncomfortable.

Not even Food Network has interesting shows on and Dean flips through channels, coming up with zilch. He turns off the TV and tosses the remote, watching it bounce off the edge and onto the floor.

The air between them is uncomfortable and Dean’s getting fidgety, a habit his little brother always made fun of him for. His legs are bouncing furiously against the floor and he’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“So, uh, Cas,” his voice nearly cracks, and all he wants to do is get up and run. “What, uh. Whaddaya wanna do?”

His friend scooches closer to him on the couch and sighs. “First off, stop doing this,” he places a gentle hand on Dean’s knee and stops him. Dean isn’t one for tutty-fruity feelings, but Cas’ touch is sending white-hot flames through Dean’s veins and it feels disgustingly amorous.

Castiel pulls his hands away and sits proper beside Dean, the sleeve of his t-shirt just brushing Dean’s arm.

“We can play some more games, watch a movie,” Cas shrugs. “Or we could go outside.”

Dean scoffs at his suggestion. “Only kids play in the snow.”

“Dean, we are technically kids.”

He scrunches his face in indignation and he refutes with his best -- and currently only -- comeback: “I know you are but what am I?”

Castiel grins and shakes his head.

But Dean thinks about it. He thinks about making snowmen and snow angels, building forts and having snowball fights. They haven’t done that in ages.

“Okay,” he says, standing and waiting for Cas who only tilts his head in confusion. Dean rolls his eyes. “ _C’mon_.”

Cas understands and follows Dean upstairs to his room. It’s messy, with clothes -- dirty and clean -- strewn around the room and school books and homework papers thrown haphazardly onto his desk. His side table is the only clear surface, housing his lamp, clock, and a small, framed photo sitting clean and shine between them. It’s a photo from the homecoming dance freshman year.

Castiel walks to the small table and picks up the frame, laughing at the picture behind the plastic cover. Dean steps beside him and stares at the photo, even though he’s had it committed to memory ever since it was taken.

He remembers every detail from that night. Dean was taking the lovely Lisa Braeden, a girl he had been crushing on since the beginning of middle school. Cas, on the other hand, was dateless. Charlie, their good friend, offered to take him. Castiel thought it unfair that Charlie had to bring a date that she wasn’t, nor ever would be, interested in. And, besides, Castiel wasn’t into her either. Or girls in general.

An absurd amount of girls used to be in love with Castiel. Absurd meaning at least half the population of females in the whole school. He was -- is -- cute, handsome, with his mussed hair and baby-blue eyes, sharp features and perfect runner's physique. The only thing in the way of them getting into Castiel’s pants is the fact that he’s gay. In a subjective Kansas high school, it’s pretty damn hard for a gay guy to find a date.

So, Charlie took Lisa and Dean took his best friend.

Dean was a little jealous, seeing the possible love of his life actually _responding_ to Charlie’s flirtatious come ons and responding _well_. He still took some pictures with Lisa at the pre-party, but he doesn’t know where any of them are.

This picture, the only Castiel holds in his hands, is Dean’s favorite.

It’s from the side, and they’re standing in someone’s backyard. Castiel is adjusting Dean’s dark blue tie, and the two of them are outright _beaming_. Dean’s eyes are firmly fixed on Castiel while he focuses on fixing Dean’s tie. He never really learned how to tie one, and he still doesn’t know. Castiel does it for him.

“I remember this,” Castiel says quietly and slides his thumb along the polished wooden frame before placing it down.

“Yeah,” Dean cracks a smile and walks to his closet, pulling out two pairs of snowpants from a bin, some gloves (none of which match), hats, and even a scarf for Cas.

They bundle themselves for the cold, dressing for the worst and hoping for the perfect snowball snow: loose but wet, perfect for packing into almost solid spheres of absolute _pain_. It’s the best part.

After pulling on a hat, Dean thumps down the stairs with Cas following suit, and Mary gives them a quick ‘be careful!’ as they open the door. As soon as Dean steps out, he can feel the bite of the cold on his nose and cheeks. He takes a deep breath in, feeling the crisp night air filling his lungs. It’s a refreshing sort of feeling, and he revels in the slight burn of his exhale. It remind him of when he was younger.

Castiel’s already out in the snow pressing snowballs together and making up a pile. Dean jumps down the steps and plans to join him, but he’s stopped when snow explodes against his chest.

“No closer, Winchester!” Castiel growls, protecting his small group of snowballs like a mother wolf protecting her pups.

“Oh, you think I wanna steal _your_ snowballs?” Dean jeers. “Yours are of amateur quality at best.”

Castiel’s jaw drops and he looks as if Dean’s comment personally affronted him. “Oh, I’ll show you amateur!” He picks up a snowball in each hand and runs to a small tree in the yard, hiding behind it and making more ammunition.

Dean sees an opportunity to make a sneak attack. Usually at this point it’s general consensus that each combatant goes of to build a fort and ready a supply of snowballs, but Dean decides he’ll break the rule tonight.

Grabbing a handful of snow, Dean steps quietly through the deep snow, trying his best not to crunch it down. Castiel is working away, the scrape of the jacket’s against his pants is loud enough to cover the faint noise in Dean’s steps. He’s right behind Cas now, and he’s holding in hysterical laughter because _how has Cas not notice_ d.

Without further ado, Dean reaches around and smashes the handful of snow into Castiel’s face.

“ _Dean!_ ” He swats at Dean’s hand, and the look of betrayal and disbelief Cas give him is priceless. Dean nearly falls to the ground in laughter, but Castiel’s on his feet, and he needs to _run_.

There isn’t a chance in the world that Dean could outrun Cas. Sure, Dean is pretty fit for a guy his age, but Cas is the athlete here, and Dean’s fruitless attempt to escape his best friend’s wrath comes to a slightly painful end very quickly.

Dean makes it about halfway across the yard before he’s tackled to the ground. He’d fight back, and _this_ is where he could beat Cas, but he’s too weak from vehement, non-stop laughter and his futile sprinting. His hands are abruptly pinned on either side of his head and a heavy weight settles on his hips. He’s breathing heavily and trying oh so hard to hold in his chuckles.

“How _dare_ you,” Castiel bites out, getting dangerously close to Dean’s face. Melting snow falling from his cheeks and onto Dean’s skin, and he can only respond with more laughter and heavy wheezes.

“Dean Winchester, you are truly,” he pauses, finally taking a moment to catch his breath. But, to Dean’s confusion, he doesn’t continue; he stares.

This time it’s different, though. It isn’t like his unintentionally scrutinizing staredowns or his look of befuddlement. There’s something warm there, between them, and he’s very simply _looking_ at Dean. And all Dean can do is look back.

It’s silent. There are no crickets or cars or leaves to sound. Everything is still, and Dean feels like he’s in a whole other world. Castiel’s eyes are twinkling in tandem with the stars above their heads, and the half moon is shining over Cas like a halo.

Dean doesn’t feel cold. He knows that there’s snow in his collar, in his boots, but he couldn’t care less. Right now, Castiel is looking at Dean like he personally hung the sun, moon, and stars just for him, and that heats him from the inside out.

The tendrils of visible breath swirl in the space between them before dispersing into the night’s chill.

“ _Insufferable_ ,” Castiel whispers as he leans down, pressing his lips to Dean’s. It’s amazing, chilled, and slow as they fall into rhythm. Their mouths fit together perfectly and Dean never wants it to end.

Castiel lets go of Dean’s wrists, opting to support himself with hands on either side of Dean. With the freedom of his hands, he reaches up and wraps Castiel in his arms, pulling him down closer and closer. All he wants to feel his Castiel’s warmth against him, and he makes a disapproving whine when all the layers of clothing make it impossible.

Regardless, the kiss is unhurried, each of them learning the motions, the taste, the feeling. Dean doesn’t know and really doesn’t care how long it lasts, because they have all the time in the world.

Dean doesn’t realize how out of breath he is until Castiel pulls away, but he keeps their lips just brushing. They’re both breathing heavily, their heaves the only sounds in the night.

“I’ve been waiting a _very_ long time to do that,” Castiel mutters and Dean can feel the tempting heat of his mouth. Dean wants to kiss him again. And again. And again.

“You shouldn't've waited,” Dean mumbles, his words muddling together because he can’t focus with Cas on top of him like this.

“And _you_ shouldn’t’ve let me win.”

The laughter that bursts out between them is something else -- something new. It’s something that keeps them up all night in the basement watching old school Christmas movies, drinking hot cocoa, and sharing lazy kisses. It’s something Dean can definitely get used to.

 


End file.
